So You Think You Can Cure My Bikini Fears?

Mike Monaghan
Mike Monaghan

A new subway advertising campaign by Doctors Plastic Surgery, now notorious for their provocative, full-frontal shots of well-endowed women “made in New York,” has recently been plastered across all of the City’s trains. This new campaign flaunts “breast augmentations” that allegedly help you “overcome your bikini fears!” Instead of the usual close-up of a Double-E chest barely contained inside a plunging V-neck blouse, this ad features a bronze-skinned woman donning a tiny bikini stretched over an impossibly long and slender body.

While many of DPS’s former ads relied mostly on racy imagery, this ad also makes the bold claim that a boob job will help me overcome my bikini fears—and for only $3,900! By promising to help me overcome my bikini fears, they imply that they understand my bikini fears.

They apparently think breast augmentation would help me forget about my stomach pudge. The little pocket of peanut butter and cupcakes that hangs beneath my belly button. The shadow of a gut that every healthy woman has, yet is inexplicably edited off every Victoria’s Secret model.

They apparently think breast augmentation would cure my anxiety of the hipbones protruding on both sides of my waist. They think if my boobs were more remarkable, people would devote less time to judging me for being too thin, too skeletal. They think if I had a more impressive rack, people would stop telling me to eat a cheeseburger.

They apparently think breast augmentation would cure my tendency to compare my body with every other woman’s. If I had the best knockers at the beach, would I no longer care that my hips are less curvy than hers? That my ankles are wider than hers? That my shoulder bones stick out more than hers? That I can’t pull off high-waisted bikini bottoms like she can, or wear white like she can?

They apparently think breast augmentation would cure my hatred of my fat fingers. My broad shoulders. My wide feet. The dimples in my thighs. The visible veins beneath my pale skin.

They apparently think breast augmentation would cure my fear of being sexually assaulted for daring to show up to the beach in a swimsuit. If my boobs were bigger, would more men notice me? Will they merely stare, their brazen eyes disrobing me as I walk past? Or will they spew their so-called “compliments?” Will they call me baby? Sweetheart? Sexy? Will they call me a stupid bitch after I ignore their verbal filth? Will they approach me? Touch me? Will they turn my bikini body into a toy for their own playtime? Will people say I asked for it?

This ad claims to know my bikini fears. Maybe because this ad created them. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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